Sunday brought a full day of events to my schedule at the last minute. One of my Fulbright buddy's (Eileen of Ann Arobor Women's Studies fame in earlier post) invited me to church and lunch. She had surreptitiously stuffed a(appropriately bedecked) postcard (i.e., Renaissance picture of Saints) into my mailbox slot while I had been shopping in Ballymena Saturday. It read -- 'pick you up for church at 10:00 and back to 4 San Souci for lunch' -- followed by her phone number.
Now, mind you, I'm Roman Catholic, cradle Catholic to be exact -- (and of Irish heritage to boot) and have never been to a Presbyterian church - let alone a Presbyterian church in the U.K. So, although knowing that some back home, and definitely my Dad's parents, would surely consider such a move to be tantamount to Daniel walking into the lion's den, (or even a far worse - unmentionable event) -- I considered it an excellent opportunity to immerse myself in the culture as well as the religion. Of all weekends, I was blessed with Remembrance Sunday to attend such a service. We have Veteran's Day but here, it's quite a week-long event culminating in Armistice weekend and Remembrance Sunday services.
A bit of a history lesson for those who are scratching their heads right about now -- Armistice day (also known as Remembrance Day) is held on 11 November and commemorates the armistice (signed agreement between WWI allies and Germany) to end the war on the Western Front. Interestingly (since anyone who knows me well knows my fascination with numbers) it occurred at eleven o'clock in the morning—(thus, the "eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month" of 1918 -- Pretty cool, huh. Next year, it'll be 11-11-11-2011, but I digress... So, from that point on, the date was declared a national holiday in many allied nations, to commemorate those members of the armed forces who were killed during war. They have ceremonies in City Centre near City Hall in Belfast and other events like a documentary film showing at the Ulster Museum (I had originally planned to attend before Elieen's invite.
So, along with the service, there was also a Remembrance Day ceremony with pomp and regal circumstance difficult to rival -- with the Union Jack, British-affiliated cub/girl scouts, and wreath made of poppies. Another bit of historical significance is the red poppy-- the red poppy has become a familiar emblem of Remembrance Day due to the poem 'In Flanders Field'. Poppies bloomed across some of the worst battlefields of Flanders during World War I, -- some say the only thing that grew during the bloodiest of times -- thus, their brilliant red color was deemed an appropriate symbol for the blood spilled in the war.
And, of course a rousing rendition of 'God save the Queen' could be heard resonating throughout the church -- (talk about feeling out of place!).
After service, during coffee in the basement, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting an elderly woman named Sheila (who had been part of the ceremony) an 88 year old nurse from the War (see picuture below). She was gracious enough to allow me to take a snapshot of her for the folks back home. She shared stories of the War, and subsequent visits to the Queen as well as U.S. dignitaries including JFK. I was introduced to several other church members who, upon hearing of my research topic (very politically, religiously 'hot' topic considering I was amongst some who were undoubtedly Presbyterian Unionists) provided a variety of responses! However, all were extremely gracious despite not necessarily agreeing with the topic of my study.
Then, it was off to Eileen's for an extremely hearty and tasty meal of baked chicken, roasted potatos and carrots, champs (mashed potatos with onions) and peas mixed with greens (possibly spinach). Being brought up to clean my plate, I could hardly walk by the time lunch was over. I managed to stuff down a bit of dessert -- apple crumble pie with a dollop of cream (mustn't be rude to the hostess) but where I found room for it, I'll never know. Barely did we clear the table when Elieen, her sister Dorothy (a librarian), and brother-in-law Terry (Professor at 'the other University' -- i.e., Ulster) pipe up -"it's a perfect day for a walk around Lagan Park". Silly me, I thought when the said "a walk" they meant a leisurely "stroll" around a small area. Oh no -- not so.
Well, we drove to Lagan Park which is technically called Lagan Valley Regional Park and lies along the River Lagan stretching for 17.6 km from Stranmillis, Belfast to Union Locks, Lisburn. We started at a pretty reasonable pace at first, but after about ten minutes' time, Eileen said, "let's put an inch between it" -- meaning "let's walk so fast we could get in shape for those walking marathons in one weekend -- maybe even one afternoon" -- So, here I was, stuffed, I mean STUFFED with food walking as if I was in a race, up and down the paths strewn with wet slippery leaves praying that I wouldn't either throw up -- or fall down, and then throw up! And although our "walk" was probably about a mile or two, it felt like the whole 17.6 kilometres. And that was my Sunday! How was yours?
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